


Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

by Emerald



Category: Moonlight (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-02
Updated: 2010-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald/pseuds/Emerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josef spends the anniversary of Sarah's death, drinking atop her grave, and finally admits his biggest regret to Mick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Mick regarded the image of his friend, elegantly sprawled out atop the flat granite tomb. A bottle of near empty 1937 Glenfiddich alongside. Mick had known where to find Josef. It had been this way every year, the past five years that Sarah had been gone. Josef alone with his memories, paying homage at Sarah’s grave with liquor distilled in his veins. As a rule Mick didn’t interfere. Not tonight though, tonight Mick needed the company.

“Yes, fancy.” Josef part sat up; half reclined on forearms, and elbows, and flourished a grin in Mick’s direction. He was well on the way to being blind stinking drunk. Mick wondered how many alcohol chased bloodstreams had been tapped to achieve this level of intoxication. Wondered, and then took a moment to marvel at the way Josef could somehow manage to still look immaculate, even in disarray.

Mick glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s midnight.”

“Really?” Josef grinned, and arched a facetious eyebrow, “Midnight in the garden of good and evil.”

“Something like that. So what are we drinking to?” Mick bent down to pick up the discarded bottle of single malt, and inspected what remained of its contents, raising an eyebrow, and letting out a low whistle when he realised the price tag.

“Regrets.” Josef snatched the bottle from Mick’s hand, and drained what was left. “And don’t look so surprised. You should know by now I don’t do cheap regrets, Mick.”

Josef’s tone was a hair’s breadth from righteous indignation.

“You don’t do anything cheap, Josef.” Snorting a wry laugh, Mick gestured for Josef to move over, and lay down next to him. Knees bent, and one arm tucked behind his head. He drew a cigarette from his jacket pocket, and placed the filter end in his mouth. Thought about lighting it, and then changed his mind. The nicotine wouldn’t have done anything for him anyway; he only smoked for the fleeting illusion of mortality he felt when the smoke entered his lungs. Much the same way other Vampires liked to order piping hot coffee, for the warmth and aroma, or drank five-figure price tag Scotch for the memory of being drunk on something other than a lush’s blood.

“Oh I don’t know about that, Mick.” Josef shrugged, his voice etched with bitter melancholy, “Talk I do cheaply. Bargain basement prices on my words, I keep the good stuff locked away inside.”

“Probably should have done that myself.” Mick mumbled, half to himself, but still loud enough for Josef to have heard. “Saved myself the expense of a broken heart.”

Beth had left a year ago, the realities of living between two worlds finally weighing in on her. Mick had kept a candle burning, for the first six months at least. After that - time, distance, the knowledge that Beth had found another to take his place - all colluded to slowly extinguish the flame. He had flown so close, only to end up with wings blackened, and singed.

“At least you had the opportunity to know what real love felt like,” Josef turned to face Mick then, his expression steeped in regret. “That, my friend, is priceless, regardless of how it worked out in the end.”

“But you had that with Sarah, didn’t you?” Mick furrowed his brow, and regarded Josef with a puzzled look. What Josef was saying didn’t make any sense. Mick had assumed Josef’s talk of regrets had to do with Sarah’s love lost. Not a love that had never been found.

“Of course,” Josef shrugged, and waved a matter of fact hand. “Sarah’s not my regret, Mick. I regret losing her. I regret the part I played in that. But I don’t regret Sarah. She was the closest I’ve ever been to knowing what it was like to be truly loved.”

“Then why…?”

“…Why the cemetery vigil, year after year?” Josef chortled, and pretended to inspect his nails. Studying the half moons, and striations, etched across a keratin surface, with feigned interest. “It has a nice dramatic edge to it. I’ve learned to appreciate my own brand of gothic melodrama. It’s a cultivated affair.”

“Josef, come on. Be serious,” Mick rolled his eyes, and huffed in exasperation. It was so typical of Josef to dodge the hard stuff, he thought. Always cloaked in a layer of protective cynicism. One that Mick seemed unable to penetrate. It still didn’t stop him from trying. “I want to know what your regrets are? If it’s not Sarah, then what, or who?”

“What are you even doing here, Mick?” Josef tried to change the subject. His regrets were precious jewels, hidden away. Not easily given. It seemed easier that way. “You don’t usually keep me company on a night like this. What, you just happened to be in the neighborhood, thought you’d drop by. See how the better half live?”

“I was lonely. I was having a bad night. I needed the company.” Mick’s tone shifted defensive. “Now I want to know what you regret? Come on, stop holding out on me. I tell you everything. Isn’t that what friends do?”

Mick emphasised certain words, trying to goad Josef into a guilt-tripped response. Eventually it worked, or perhaps Josef was just drunk enough to offer confession. Or maybe, just maybe he figured that locked key, treasure trove of regret would do better on the open market. Seller at risk, and buyer beware.

“Ok, Mick. Just remember, you were the one who wanted to know.” Josef moved closer, shifting into Mick’s space. His lips pressed against Mick’s ear. “You see there was this boy, once. And I fell in love with him. Wasn’t looking for it, didn’t expect it, and there it was. Only I never told him, I kept it to myself because he’d already burdened himself with enough regret for the both of us. So I come here, and I celebrate what I had with Sarah. And I get drunk to erase the memory of a regret.”

 Josef paused then, allowing the weight of his words to sink in, a single finger tracing the contours of Mick’s jaw. And then he was brushing his mouth against Mick’s own; the barest of feather touch kisses, and whispering low.

“You, Mick. You are my regret.”

A sharp draw of breath signified Mick’s shock. He hadn’t expected that, forgetting for the moment that he didn’t need to breathe.

“Josef.” Mick hung suspended by a moment in time, trying to formulate his own patterns of speech. “Christ, why didn’t you tell me?”

And then the damn burst. Emotions suppressed, long since wondered about, and forgotten, flooded forth. A white water remembrance of things past, churned with the hint of what may come. Confused, desperate. Mick was running on adrenalin instinct now.

The ferocity of Mick’s reaction took Josef by surprise. He’d taken a risk, hadn’t known what to expect. Crossed his fingers, said a silent prayer, and hoped for an embarrassed, “Gee thanks,” at best.

He hadn’t expected this.

Mick kissing him, hard enough to feel bruised. Mick tangled up in him. Clawing, trying to crawl under his skin. Bodies meshed so tight it was hard to know where one ended, and the other began.

Josef needed to slow things down. Needed to regain control. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, a supernova flaring white hot, and out of control, consuming all in its path.

“Mick,” Josef held Mick off long enough to grab his undivided attention. Unneeded breath still ragged. Pupils glazed, and dilated. All pale faced, and fangs extended. Red rimmed bruises around lips, and eyes.

“What?” Mick’s desperation slowly waned.

“You did get that I just told you I’m in love in you.”

“Yes, I did get that part.” Lips drawn into a patronising smile, Mick nodded his understanding. “Funnily enough, I do happen to speak English.”

“Really.” Josef cocked his head, and tossed a flippant response. And then he was raising a quizzical eyebrow, his expression falling to bemusement. “And that was your honest reaction just then, was it?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Mick scrubbed a confused hand over his face. “My instinctual reaction, I guess.”

“I don’t want instinctual, Mick.” Josef was shifting back into Mick’s space, a hand on the back of Mick’s neck, drawing him closer. “Instinctual I can get from anyone.”

“Would you settle for uncertain honesty?” Mick managed a dry laugh. His forehead rested against Josef’s now, fingers clutching, caressing through space, and time.

“If that’s what you’re offering.” Josef paused to brush damp strands of hair from Mick’s forehead. “I always knew these regrets of mine would fetch a high price one day.”

More dry laughter, a smattering of wry amusement, and then Mick spoke again. Offering the nearest thing to truth he had on hand.

“I feel…something.” Mick raised a stilling hand, “Just, whatever you do, don’t ask me to quantify what that something is. I don’t know. I do know it’s more than …”

“…Just friendship?” Josef cut in, still calculating risks, and cost. “A Vampire’s friendship. More than a mortal’s but not quite love.”

Josef let go of Mick, and sat up then. Feeling the need to put some distance between them. He’d already fetched a high price with regret, Mick’s truth had fetched even higher, or at least Josef’s interpretation of the truth. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and everything to lose.

“I know the difference. And that’s not what I meant, Josef.”

It was Mick who dragged Josef back to the table then, initiative taken upon himself. Moving back into Josef’s space. A hand drawn around the back of Josef’s neck, circling closer. His lips pressed against Josef’s own this time. You’ve named your price. Now help me to match it, or at least understand.

And this time there would be no stopping, for either of them. Mick’s hands were already working along the front of Josef’s shirt, moving to the top of Josef’s suit pants. Fingers paused to caress, and insight. Slipping beneath the waistband of Josef’s boxers, encircling the hardness found there, squeezing rhythmically along its length. And Josef’s own hands, burning a path across Mick’s flesh, electrifying, and thrilling him. A feast of the senses, body, mind, and soul, as Josef stripped them both from their remaining clothes, and proceeded to worship the expanse of Mick’s body with his fingers, and tongue.

“Oh shit.” Mick arched into the sensation. Arms stretched out above, hands gripping opposite corners of Sarah’s tomb. Trying to keep from flying apart. “Oh fuck, you’re good, better than good. This is…Ok, whatever you do, don’t stop.”

Josef chortled at Mick’s renewed desperation. “It doesn’t bother you that we’re doing this here?”

Mick didn’t know how he was supposed to answer. Guilt momentarily clawed at his stomach. Josef had loved Sarah. Sarah deserved more respect than to have her resting place defiled like this. But Sarah was gone, and so was Beth. And they were both still here.

“Fuck what’s past.” The words flowed from Mick, automatic.

Josef smiled his approval, “My sentiments exactly.”

Josef was letting go. More than letting go, he was starting to believe in a future he never thought possible. Tenuous as it was, it was something to hang onto. Something he had wanted, all these years. A chance to know what true love really meant. Without the threat of death, and decay casting a pall over head. Of mortals that needed to be turned, and the shadow of an uncertain future. If Sarah were alive, Josef felt sure she would have approved. He had finally connected with his equal.

He turned his attention back to Mick. Mick barely coherent, lost in a haze of pleasure. Legs wrapped around Josef’s waist, riding hard up against him. His own body, matching Mick’s rhythm note for note. Two saliva-drenched fingers pressed up inside Mick now. Curling upwards, beckoning, letting Mick buck, and writhe, and lose control on his hand.

One final act, the pace shifting frantic, Josef grinding hard up against Mick’s body, seeking his own release. And then they were both shouting their pleasure to the night sky above, and sinking their fangs into each other’s flesh.  They sailed off the edge together, a rare moment of simultaneous release that slicked their abdomens with fluid, and left them breathless without the need to breathe.

“How do you feel?” Josef lay alongside Mick when it was over. Mick drawn into his arms, head rested against the crook of Josef’s shoulder.

Mick settled further into Josef’s embrace, silent in his repletion, considering the question Josef had posed. The answer should have been simple, just like the question had been. Mick needed time to think, to formulate his response. Nothing was ever that simple.

Or maybe this time it was. Another moment of contemplation, a consideration of feelings, and revelations, and then Mick was offering his reply.

“Like it’s past midnight in the garden of good and evil, and this was meant to be.”


End file.
